


Green

by anassa_cardion



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 15:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15560907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anassa_cardion/pseuds/anassa_cardion





	Green

It had, as do all things which concern Loki, begun with a prank.

He had grown up in Thor's shadow, and it had irked him. They were different, yes, but where Thor outdid him in strength, he knew he had the advantage in wits and in magic. He was perfectly capable of besting Thor, and, in fact, had done so multiple times. And, as many times, Odin had gazed only upon his eldest, and Loki had come in second anyway.

But this had not been about Odin. It had been about Thor.

It had been about Sif.

* * *

A powerful woman, was Sif. She was as strong as she was beautiful, and virtuous as she was daring. A fitting bride for the prince of Asgard. Thor had taken a liking to her, and she to him, as kindred souls were wont to do. It could have been called love, and it could have led to a perfectly serviceable marriage.

The thought had soured Loki's mouth. He hadn't paused to consider why.

Instead, he had shrouded himself in his magic, emerged a wasp from a chrysalis—and acted.

* * *

"Brooding, Lord Odinson?"

Thor turned at the unfamiliar voice, and was met by a lady in luscious velvet robes, rich emerald embroidered with gold. She was not beautiful, but handsome—a specimen of hard grace and disdainful pride. Her eyes, cold and searching, were a strange, sharp green.

"You might say so." Thor left the balustrade and the dull gold of the sunset beyond it. "To whom do I owe the pleasure?"

The lady shook her head, and laughed a soft laugh that echoed like a winter wind. "A person of no consequence, O my lord."

Her voice was low and smooth, dark but clear. Thor felt the power her words held and knew at once that she was lying, but found himself unwilling to press the matter. The lady wove a web of glistening silk from the most banal pleasantries, and, before Thor knew it, he had forgotten his quarrel with Sif. Instead, he found himself lying with the stranger tight in his arms, drugged into a hazy, comfortable peace.

"Renounce the girl," the lady murmured eventually, "Seek only me. Love only me." Her eyes met his, glittering like cut glass in the moonlight. "One day, I might even be yours."

And she rose, and left, vanishing out the door before Thor could even reach out for her.

* * *

The fallout had not been horrendous. Sif, after all, was not a terribly sentimental being. She had her Warriors Three, and the great group of them still went about adventuring like children as if nothing had ever happened at all. But she grew into the habit of stealing glances at Thor, the softness of her eyes marring her warmaiden's facade.

Above all, Loki treasured the confusion that those gazes carried ever after, as she wondered what had gone wrong, and why.

* * *

So—that ill-intentioned little jest had gone swimmingly well. Odin displeased, Thor discomfited and Sif disavowed, Loki's world had returned to its veneered peace.

As finely wrought as it had been, however, like its brethren, his spell had required maintenance. He had visited Thor whenever the fancy took him, under cover of night or during bright day, within the palace walls or in the depths of wild forests. It had made him feel powerful, to see the light in Thor's eyes, the spark of passion that was reserved for him, for _only_ him.

His work had been so magnificent that he almost hadn't noticed it.

But it so happened that one day Thor had _not been there_. It should have been a trivial thing; Thor was away gallivanting on one of the many branches of Yggdrasil, and Loki would find some other source of amusement. But he had pined, and it had felt like a stake through his heart, through his very centre, through his every proud deception.

The veneer shattered.

* * *

Time passed; the mysterious lady disappeared, and faded from memory. Loki grew bitter, each day watching Thor's life continue unaffected while he wasted away, desiring but unwilling—curse the being who called him afraid!—to possess. Yet Thor showed no signs of returning to Sif, either, and the uncertainty—karmic retribution—hurt Loki's psychological constitution the most.

And then, came the coronation.

It had been something to assuage his pride, to crush the slow ice that had been consuming his chest. And just as it had been about Sif, now it was about Jane. But this time, Loki realised with budding horror, Thor would choose otherwise.

The thought of taking his chances with the glamour danced constantly at the back of his mind, but he feared—yes, now he feared—that he would fail, because he saw in his brother's eyes that he _loved_ the mortal girl. And so he played out his madman's scheme through to the end, leaving all true guile in favour of a paltry farce, designed for Thor and his humans to foil.

He discovered many truths, painful and fascinating, and not just from the shadowed depths of Yggdrasil's roots. Wretchedness, equal to and above that which he inflicted on his enemies, crept upon him and refused to leave.

* * *

And at the end of it all:

Loki stood, alone in a floating world, alone upon a pavilioned platform amidst sombre watercolour clouds.

He felt his solitude interrupted by Thor's presence, and felt it keenly. He felt it before he heard Thor's voice, and then felt it cut even deeper when Thor spoke.

"Brooding, Lord Laufeyson?"

Loki did not deign to turn. All had been said and done. People had died, Midgardian and Asgardian alike. The curtain had fallen, and he was once again steeped in ennui. Thor had called his careless designs on the throne a poisonous dream, but the true poison lay elsewhere. His thoughts drifted to the first of their encounters. "You might say so," he murmured absently.

"I _knew_ it was you," Thor returned, uncharacteristically quiet, "Not at first, but I realised sometime after."

Loki whirled, and saw that Thor was speaking the truth. He knew—had known. "Nonsense. My glamour was enchanted to prevent just that."

"Not by your looks, Loki. By what you did. What you were; what you are."

"You didn't say anything."

"You were toying with me. I didn't want to ruin your fun."

Loki, eyes narrowed, turned away once more to gaze upon the grayness without, rather than within. "You ruined my fun anyway."

Thor came up behind him, as careful and as imprudent as if he were cornering a beast. Eventually Loki felt his brother's bulk embrace him, hands heavy on his hips and breath soft on his neck. "You have my humblest apologies. I'll make it up to you."

"And how do you propose to do that, O majesty? Have you not a kingdom to rule, and a mortal princess to love?"

A beat. "You say it yourself. What is Jane's lifespan, to ours? And Asgard would do better with a queen, as well as a king."

Loki turned his head, his eyes glowing that strange, sharp green. Thor recognised the lady he had met and loved and wanted, and saw her within his brother, and saw him as he was.

"Loki, I—"

The mysterious lady of his youth shook her head, shushing him. In the gentle silence, she whispered of a secret future, a future of no distractions, no interlopers, of their souls bound together in decadence and silence. "Only me," she breathed at last, a choked, almost pleading sound—

And then she laughed her soft, sad, wintry laugh, and kissed him, and kissed him, and fled from his arms once more.


End file.
